Eating like an artist.

Silence Dogood here. Discovering a copy of the latest Barbara Kingsolver novel—The Lacuna—at my local library, I saw that it was about a fictional man who becomes drawn into the lives of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. (Well, it’s actually about a man who becomes torn between the values of the international artistic and idealistic community at the time in Mexico and the increasingly conservative values of his native USA, but what caught my eye was the Kahlo-Rivera connection.) I checked it out immediately.

Two disclaimers here: I realize that both Barbara Kingsolver and Frida Kahlo are wildly popular, cultural icons with cult followings. But I confess that, though I both enjoyed and admired Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, I have yet to be able to finish even one of her novels. (And I’m an avid reader who consumes books the way others consume chocolate.)

Further, I loathe Frida Kahlo’s repulsive self-absorption and appreciate her art only on the occasions when its topic strays from her all-absorbing self-pity. Yes, I realize she had a horrifying accident in her most vulnerable years that caused her unimaginable agony for the rest of her life and killed her prematurely, and yes, I realize that she went on to lead an extraordinary life despite her constant, crippling pain and the limitations caused by her broken body. But other artists have suffered equally crippling blows—Flannery O’Connor and Joni Eareckson Tada spring to mind—and have gone on to produce great things that did not revolve around them. They acknowledged their painful, often horrifying experiences and limitations, and then surpassed them in their work. Sometimes I wonder if Frida, despite her self-professed consuming love for Diego Rivera, ever really saw any further than her own mirror.

But, just as not a novel but a book about eating locally made me admire Barbara Kingsolver, a cookbook made me finally appreciate Frida Kahlo. The book, Frida’s Fiestas: Recipes and Reminiscences of Life with Frida Kahlo, was written by Diego Rivera’s daughter Guadalupe.* My friend Huma has this book in her cookbook collection, and I have looked at it—and looked for it—many times. It’s my favorite kind of cookbook, the kind that transcends the mere “here’s this recipe, here’s that recipe” format to take you into another world, be it the life of Thomas Jefferson or the secluded paradise of a Moroccan Kasbah or the farms of the Amish or the Berkeley milieu of the 1960s that produced Laurel’s Kitchen.

In Frida’s Fiestas, we’re taken into the private world that Frida Kahlo created for herself, Diego Rivera, and their friends at the Blue House in Coyoacan. The book is organized into 12 fiestas—celebrations—from Christmas to the Day of the Dead, with reminiscences and recipes that Guadalupe recalls Frida making, along with the background touches to make her fiestas unforgettable.

The richness of the book is beyond anything I’ve seen: the lush photography, with the food in traditional dishes and shown in the Blue House where Frida and Diego (and Guadalupe) would have eaten it; Frida’s still lifes; Guadalupe’s detailed memories of life with the fabled pair; the fiestas themselves; most of all, the way Frida decorated her home and her life. Never have I seen a portrait of anyone emerge so clearly, and how ironic in the face of the innumerable self-portraits upon which Frida expended her limited time and energy.

I would love to give you a recipe or two from Frida’s Fiestas, but unfortunately the copyright page threatens all of us, even non-profiting bloggers like yours truly, with death if we dare to reproduce so much as a word of text for any reason. However, since the recipes themselves are traditional, at least the titles of them can’t be copyrighted: Black Mole from Oaxaca, Red Hominy Stew from Jalisco,Corn Pudding with Chiles in Cream, Stuffed Chayotes, Green Rice, Chiles in Walnut Sauce, Limes Filled with Coconut, Macaroni with Spinach Sauce, Fried Chicken with Peanut Sauce, Dead Man’s Bread, Yellow Mole, Red Mole, Tamales in Banana Leaves, Squash Blossom Quesadillas, Enchiladas Tapatias, Potatoes in Green Sauce, Lima Bean Soup, Cold Chiles with Vegetable Stuffing, Red Snapper Veracruz Style, Mango Sorbet, Nopales Salad, Guacamole with Chipotle Chiles, Stuffed Pineapple, Grenadine Punch… Mmmmm…

Anyway, I found it ironic that two women I had come to admire, not through their famous works but through their relationships with food, had come together in a novel. I have yet to start reading, but I can only hope that food plays a role!

                ‘Til next time,

                         Silence     

*Unable to find the book in any bookstore, I finally located it on Amazon. If you’re inspired to go online to look at it, it’s coauthored by Marie-Pierre Colle, published in 1994 by Clarkson Potter, and still in print, retailing for $37.50 but of course cheaper through Amazon. It’s just fabulous.